Jack Frost: King of Thieves

CHAPTER VI: For The Southern Isles

The sun had risen into a clear, bright morning sky, and the entirety of the Southern Isles' army had gathered outside Manny's pavilion. Foot soldiers, archers, knights; all of them arrayed in their companies, all of them staring at the king's tent, expectant, silent. Banners had been raised. Pennants flew in the morning breeze. Trumpeters stood ready, their horns gleaming. Just off to the side, Manny's white charger stood beside his groom, the creature resplendent in the royal colours.

Jackson had mounted his horse and waited with the other knights for the king to emerge from the tent. His armour, like that of the men sitting their horses on either side of him, had been polished to a high shine, and the red and gold insignia on his surcoat seemed to glow in the sunlight.

When at last the canvas at the pavilion entrance was swept aside and Manny stepped out into the morning, Jackson nodded to the trumpeters, who began immediately to blow their fanfare. The men let out a mighty roar, raising their weapons and pounding their shields.

The king, who had squinted at the brightness of the sun, winced now, squeezing his eyes shut and screwing up his face in pain. Jackson nearly laughed to see his liege so hungover. But he heard something in the cheering of Manny's warriors change, and the sound sobered him. It was one thing for him to know how much Manny had imbibed the night before. It was quite another for his men to realise it.

"For the love of Christ, Jackson!" Manny roared over the "Hurrah! Hurrah! Hurrah!" of the men. "Would you stop them doing that! My head's going like the bells of hell!"

Jackson nodded to the groom, who led Manny's charger over to the king. Seeing this, the men quieted down. Jackson also beckoned to the nearest knight and instructed him to take the other knights and prepare the king's forces to renew their assault on the Alsace-Lorraine fortress. In short order, Jackson and Manny were as alone as two men could be in the midst of the Southern Isles army.

Manny eyed the castle, squinting again. His breath still smelled of wine. "Is that it?" he asked, indicating the castle with a nod. "It looked bigger last night."

"One more castle to sack, Sire, and home to Southern Isles."

The king's expression remained sour. "From crusading to debt collecting, Jackson! We have taken cities and put thousands to the sword in Ebonguard Theocracy, and I end up robbing a so that I can return home with something to show for years of campaigning." He swung himself onto his mount. "Let's hope he is as rich as rumour has it."

The white charger reared, pawing the air, prancing gracefully. Jackson saw men pointing, awe on their faces, and he had no doubt that from a distance, in that moment, the king looked as regal as he had in years. But none of the men were close enough to see Manny wince again at the pounding of his head, or to hear him growl at the horse, "Don't do that, you whore!"

The Lionheart spurred his horse to a canter, and Jackson Overland rode after him, following his liege to battle once more.

While hundreds of their fellow soldiers watched from beyond crossbow range, cheering and shouting encouragement, Jack, Peter, and Sinbad, and dozens of their fellow archers crept toward the castle, joined by several men carrying leather sacks filled with flammable naphtha. They moved in small companies, each group of men carrying a barn door over their heads as if they were tortoises bearing a giant shell. It was slow going, and Jack's back and legs ached with the effort of carrying the damn thing. But before long they would be within range of the Alsace-Lorraine bowmen on the castle walls, and he would be thankful for the cover.